Kohai Part II
by Mitsima
Summary: This is the second chapter of Mikona's "Kohai" written earlier last summer. With her permissionrequest ( Thanks for the opportunity!), I was able to finish the fic. Enjoy!


**_Kohai_**

Chapter 2

**************

It was so gray outside, Komiya noticed, the way it usually was before a thunderstorm. The grayness seemed to affect everybody whether outside or inside as if they were all underwater, trapped in some tepid bubble of stillness. Things moved more slowly. People's faces were deadpan. So it brought him to think that none of them were really there because it was so crummy outside. 

They were inside of themselves, curled up and wishing for the storm that could very well kill 'em.

You'd think that after years of wading through a murky underworld, Komiya would be used to it by now. 

Truth is you end every fucking day thanking the fucking heavens that you're alive to be staring at the ceiling. You sleep a bit, then wake up, scramble for the caffeine, then deal the drugs again.

He'd seen the movies. _Yeah. Real fucking glamorous this is,_ he thought bitterly.

Every fucking day a nightmare because when it wasn't boring, it was scary. And when it _was_ boring, you just waited for it, that storm. That's how life was.

Then Kubota-san joined up. Nothing touched him. It was like _he_ was the fucking storm- and everything about it: the psychotic quietness before it, and the consoling stillness after it. That's just the way Kubota-san was, just like one of those days that made your mind fuzzy mute and unaware of the clock. The only clear thing was him and nothing else. Sorta like- time didn't get to him and anybody around him would get pulled into that little world of his.

**5:04:45 p.m.**   
But Kubota was not here. Now, Komiya was only too hyper aware of the clock-radio which in a matter of moments had transformed into an oppressively obnoxious demon of immensely cheerful proportions.

**5:05:26 p.m.**

"Good evening, Yokohama! Are you tired yet? Ready to go home? Ready for cram school? Ready to par-taaaay?! Well, wherever your life's headed on this beautiful evening..." _Beautiful?_ "...tune into 88.5 FM and soothe-" _Your aching soul_.

**5:05:47 p.m.**

"Does your head ache? How about your back? Well we have just the solution for you: Tiger Oil! Instant _instant_ relief of paaaain! Available today at your local-" _Drug dealer._

**5:05:59...59...59... **

"Local police have been tracking-" _My ass!_

The radio went crashing against the wall, much to the dismay of the younger Izumo members. _Komiya-san's losing it_. Their conclusion was tacit, yet unanimous. 

So the entire day they had kept their distance, for only he and Kubota-san were allowed to have guns...and Kubota-san wasn't here to protect them if and/or when his second-in-command snapped.

Komiya had been staring obsessively at the time since four. He spoke to no one. When they inquired about Kubota, he would reply nervously, "5:15. He said he'd be back by 5:15," and then fall back into a sullen silence like a rabid dog in feverish repose. 

By 5:10, Komiya was the only one left in the office. The sky was growing dark and Kubota-san..._shit, I hate this_.

"Come back tomorrow. We don't have the stuff your boss wanted yet," the freelancers said to them yesterday. "But leave your chimpira at home. The kid's so nervous he's about to shoot himself in the foot. This operation's going to be clean. No mess-ups. The police, they're...nevermind. Tomorrow: no kid."

"No chimpira. Gotcha," Kubota replied coolly, his eyes moving accusingly towards the corner of the warehouse draped in shadow. "And you, no sniper. _I_ just might be the one to get nervous." His hand made for the gun, but did not reach all the way. 

_I got one too, you know_.

 "It wasn't meant for you anyway, Kubota-san." The headman leered. "Since you seem to be the crazy type of fuck who ain't afraid to get killed, a bullet for the chimpira if you get stupid."

"Ah. Understood."

_Chimpira_. The word still mocked Komiya even hours after they had gone their separate ways. __

_Is that all I am?_

**5:14 p.m.** or thereabouts, lightning struck. Trees must have fallen on the electrical cables because the entire neighborhood was suddenly coated in a sticky-humid darkness. Then came the short, methodical explosions of gunfire -maybe in his paranoia Komiya had imagined it- that seemed to echo with the thunder outside. Just in case, he drew his gun.

Now would be the perfect shit-fucking time for any rival gang to play fucking butcher in the Izumo offices.  

**5:20 p.m.** or thereabouts (Komiya had lost track of the time) he heard footsteps. If the world were merciful, they would merely have passed the door on their way to a different room of the building. They didn't.

_Oh god,_ Komiya thought,_ if there are any guardian spirits assigned to protect stupid, young chimpiras holed up in their dark little offices at night, let them appear **right** **now**._

It could have been Kubota, but the violent kick given to the door proved otherwise. Kubota-san had the key. Another mechanical blast and Komiya knew that the lock was history.

_Holy shitholyshitholyshit..._

Thunder rumbled in the distance, accompanied by the empty sound of rain pounding against the building. The associations he made with rain were morbid, at best. He thought of how it would be the worst thing in the world to die in the rain. You blot the world with your blood for a second and by the next day you're gone, as if you had never been there in the first place. The rain would have washed away your existence within a twelve hour time slot. People would step where you died, not knowing you were ever there. They wouldn't fucking care even if they _did_ know.

As the door creaked open, Komiya took the chance and sprung forward. _I'm not dying like that. Never._ He kicked the guy in the stomach, pointed the gun, and...hesitated. It was enough of a recovery period for the intruder to retaliate. In no time, a fist connected with his cheek. The world went red and terrifying and a body forcefully checked his own against the wall.  

The grip around his wrist, the tip of a gun digging into the side of his neck...they were cold and they pressed hard. 

"K...Kubota-san?" he choked.

"Komiya?" The gun at his neck eased off, but the hand at his wrist, still unbelieving, remained frozen in place. "Komiya." Kubota said it again, this time with less surprise as the aftershocks of the moment settled into a dull murmur in tune with their heartbeats and staggered breaths. "I guess this is what I get for locking myself out_. _Gomen, ne?"

Komiya's brush with death had tactfully muted one detail in the situation which, under normal circumstances and mental states, would have thrown his mind into a whirling pit of anguish. "I...um..." 

But since it had already sunk to such depths, realization came very very slowly. Nevertheless, it came very very surely and he panicked once it hit: he and Kubota-san...right now...were very, _very_ close.

"What was that?" Kubota needed only to breathe and he could feel it.

"...uh...s'okay. No harm done, right?" 

"None that I can think of."

"Is that all you can say, after I almost blow your head off?" 

In answer, Kubota's slick hand, wet from the storm outside, released its grip only to gently take hold of Komiya's gun from the other side. He slipped his own finger next to Komiya's on the trigger and guided it down until the tip of the barrel was pointed towards his own temple.

"It would have been a different situation," Kubota inched closer and whispered into his ear. "If you had taken off the safety first." He squeezed. Komiya flinched. Nothing happened. 

Provoked by some twisted logic, Komiya grew indignant. "Fuck it. I'll be a dead body in the gutter by next week if keep up this way. Some yakuza I am...can't even almost shoot you properly...whatreyoudoing?"    

In the middle of the rant, Kubota had disabled the safety. "Giving you another chance." 

If Komiya had any retort in mind, it quickly disintegrated when he felt Kubota's warm, rain-moistened lips on his neck, biting him gently. "If it gets to be too much for you, go ahead and shoot me," Kubota murmured.

Komiya would have ripped his hair out in frustration. God knew how much he wanted this, even though he had never admitted it to himself. Hands made their way beneath his shirt. And the taste of that gum Kubota bought yesterday and the cigarettes he bought this morning before they left for the office. The comfortable and controlling weight against him. Komiya wanted it all and more, but...

Komiya jutted the gun at Kubota's stomach. "S...stop it." he desperately fumbled for some sense of resolve. "That's enough, Kubota-san. I'm _not_ your chimpira." 

"So _that's_ what it was." Kubota said understandingly as he backed away. "I had a feeling yesterday was really bugging you. You could have said so in the first place."

Komiya breathed a sigh of relief and slid to the floor. "What's there to say?"

"Nothing much, I guess." Kubota shrugged and dug around his pockets for a cigarette. "If you didn't go through all the trouble to hide it, I might not have gone through the trouble of trying to seduce you to get it out."

"You would have done it anyway."

"I dunno. Maybe. Most likely."

For a while neither spoke. Komiya hugged his knees to his chest and rested his forehead against them. It was Kubota who broke the silence. 

"Hey." he said.

"What?"

"You didn't shoot me." 

"I guess I didn't."

"That mean it _wasn't_ too much for you?"

Komiya smiled. "I dunno. Maybe. Most likely." 

What followed was another bout of silence; contemplative this time. 

"Hey," Kubota said again.

"What?"

"Got a light?"

"Yeah."

"Got the time?"

"No." Komiya wasn't even going to explain the busted clock.

It was too early to be completely dark, but it was. All the clouds are what did it. Not even the moon could get through. Even after his eyes had adjusted, the clearest thing Komiya could see was the glowing end of Kubota's cigarette. It was strange how his entire world revolved around that one lump of glowing ash, the smoke he couldn't see, and the body that gave them this eerie type of life. It was terrifying, but _there_. He could see it. He could touch it. Komiya took comfort in this knowledge.

"Kubota-san?"

"Hm?"

"What happened with the deal, anyway? You pull it off?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"I called it off."

"Sanada-san's going to be pissed, you know that?"

The rain was starting to become an almost inaudible trickle. "_You_ were angry first," Kubota said after giving the matter a second of thought. "Then _I_ got angry at them. Sanada-san comes third on the list since he's not mad yet. So it's us that I had to deal with first. It was clearly a chronological situation."

"Clearly," Komiya reiterated.

"Didn't like it either."

"Like what?" Komiya asked.

"The way the guy was looking at you yesterday. You were so upset about being called a chimpira that you didn't notice." Kubota shot him a knowing glance through the dimness before continuing. "So when I saw that he wasn't there today, I had a feeling...so I came back. He was just about to bust through the door when I caught up with him." _So the gunshots I heard were real... _"And then-"

Komiya winced. "Yeah. I know. I almost fucking didn't shoot you."

"You knew it was me, though. That's why you didn't pull the trigger that wasn't going to give anyway."

"Are you going to rub it in forever?"

"Not unless you tell me how you knew it was me."__

"I dunno. I just knew. Had a strong feeling, I guess."

"That's why you're my kohai."

Everything melted into the darkness, leaving only the outline of things. Even Kubota was nothing more than a shadow in his line of vision- shifting, thinking, looking. In the darkness, not even Komiya could reach him, but the weight of those last words comforted him till the very end. And at the very end, this is what Komiya saw in his coming darkness. This is what he heard, as the sound of rain evaporated with the memory of it all.


End file.
